curves of the tracks, the probable bearing of the centre, the shifts of
wind and the readings of barometer. He tried to bring all these
things into a definite relation to himself, and ended by becoming
contemptuously angry with such a lot of words, and with so much advice,
all head-work and supposition, without a glimmer of certitude.

"It's the damnedest thing, Jukes," he said. "If a fellow was to believe
all that's in there, he would be running most of his time all over the
sea trying to get behind the weather."

Again he slapped his leg with the book; and Jukes opened his mouth, but
said nothing.

"Running to get behind the weather! Do you understand that, Mr. Jukes?
It's the maddest thing!" ejaculated Captain MacWhirr, with pauses,
gazing at the floor profoundly. "You would think an old woman had been
writing this. It passes me. If that thing means anything useful, then
it means that I should at once alter the course away, away to the devil
somewhere, and come booming down on Fu-chau from the northward at the
tail of this dirty weather that's supposed to be knocking about in our
way. From the north! Do you understand, Mr. Jukes? Three hundred extra
miles to the distance, and a pretty coal bill to show. I couldn't bring
myself to do that if every word in there was gospel truth, Mr. Jukes.
Don't you expect me. . . ."

And Jukes, silent, marvelled at this display of feeling and loquacity.

"But the truth is that you don't know if the fellow is right, anyhow.
How can you tell what a gale is made of till you get it? He isn't aboard
here, is he? Very well. Here he says that the centre of them things